So for the last week or so, I find that when I stand up and start walking, my legs are really, really sore. Like the way they feel after a really long run, when I've really pushed myself. And because I am nothing if not Pavlovian, I then feel smug/satisfied/proud, and start to wonder if there's any chocolate for me to eat as a reward.
Except I haven't worked out in a week.
And I'm just sore because I have a bowling ball in my pelvis.
And then I get really annoyed.
And I start to wonder what I could eat to make me feel better.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Friday, January 25, 2013
37 weeks and whaaaa???
We bought a minivan yesterday. I know I was supposed to be all sad and woeful about moving from SUV to minivan, and I really, really loved my Escape, but srsly: BIG PIMPIN IN THE SIENNA. I am ridiculously excited about this. When it's cold? And we're in the Y's parking lot? (Which, as much as I am the world's biggest YMCA fan, especially our Y, the parking lot is a terrifying gauntlet.) I can get both of the girls in the car, close the door, and THEN strap each of them in! ZOMG! Exclamation point!
Anyway.
Of course, that means we spent five hours at the dealership last night, negotiating (which went very smoothly, actually, which shocked and amazed me), filling out paperwork, waiting, waiting, waiting. And as we sat there, I thought, wow. These are some seriously intense Braxton-Hicks. Wow. Not painful, per se, but yes, INTENSE. And I tried to ignore them. But they didn't seem to be going away. After about an hour of that, I mentioned to Stephen that I maybe did not feel so hot. But as soon as I said it, we were up and moving around, and it got better. When we finally got home and I ate and drank and went to the bathroom, I felt totally normal and fine.
Fast forward to today at the doctor, when she finished her exam and I said, "So, closed? long?" And she wrinkled her nose at me and said, "Um. No. You're at a centimeter....um, more like a centimeter and a half. But...still high?" And my heart rate tripled, because: yes. it is true that you can walk around for WEEKS dilated much more than that. But I never have. In fact, with both of the girls, they were born within days of starting to dilate. Will that pattern hold? Who knows. True. I mentioned that Gracie was born at 40w2d and Katie was born at 38w3d, and was that significant? And she said, "Well. On AVERAGE, third babies tend to come right around the same time as the prior babies, if not a few days earlier. So you really need to be ready around 38 weeks." At which point I told her that he would have to ride home on the floor of the van and sleep in a drawer, so let's hope he follows Gracie's pattern and not Katie's.
I am not ready. I could list all the ways I am not ready, but it is not particularly interesting and the moral of the story is: Not. Ready.
I really want to make it to February. Really, really, really. And if I can't do that, I want to make it through the weekend, during which time I am getting a MUCH anticipated pedicure, and my first haircut in four months. If I don't make it to sunday's hair cut, I will probably be hitting the six month mark before I ever get my damn hair cut. So I am willing to compromise and accept Sunday. OK, Stosh? YOU HEAR THAT?
And since I am obsessed with comparison, here's Stosh this week:
Compared with Katie at 37 weeks (no 37 week picture of Gracie, bummer):
The is clearly more flattering, but also: Katie = tiny. Still. I think Stosh looks lower than Katie did at that point, but meh, for whatever that is worth.
Sunday afternoon. Preferably February. I really, really think I should get a vote in this.
Anyway.
Of course, that means we spent five hours at the dealership last night, negotiating (which went very smoothly, actually, which shocked and amazed me), filling out paperwork, waiting, waiting, waiting. And as we sat there, I thought, wow. These are some seriously intense Braxton-Hicks. Wow. Not painful, per se, but yes, INTENSE. And I tried to ignore them. But they didn't seem to be going away. After about an hour of that, I mentioned to Stephen that I maybe did not feel so hot. But as soon as I said it, we were up and moving around, and it got better. When we finally got home and I ate and drank and went to the bathroom, I felt totally normal and fine.
Fast forward to today at the doctor, when she finished her exam and I said, "So, closed? long?" And she wrinkled her nose at me and said, "Um. No. You're at a centimeter....um, more like a centimeter and a half. But...still high?" And my heart rate tripled, because: yes. it is true that you can walk around for WEEKS dilated much more than that. But I never have. In fact, with both of the girls, they were born within days of starting to dilate. Will that pattern hold? Who knows. True. I mentioned that Gracie was born at 40w2d and Katie was born at 38w3d, and was that significant? And she said, "Well. On AVERAGE, third babies tend to come right around the same time as the prior babies, if not a few days earlier. So you really need to be ready around 38 weeks." At which point I told her that he would have to ride home on the floor of the van and sleep in a drawer, so let's hope he follows Gracie's pattern and not Katie's.
I am not ready. I could list all the ways I am not ready, but it is not particularly interesting and the moral of the story is: Not. Ready.
I really want to make it to February. Really, really, really. And if I can't do that, I want to make it through the weekend, during which time I am getting a MUCH anticipated pedicure, and my first haircut in four months. If I don't make it to sunday's hair cut, I will probably be hitting the six month mark before I ever get my damn hair cut. So I am willing to compromise and accept Sunday. OK, Stosh? YOU HEAR THAT?
And since I am obsessed with comparison, here's Stosh this week:
 | |
| weird angle, crappy picture, BIG BELLY |
 |
| better picture, smaller belly |
Sunday afternoon. Preferably February. I really, really think I should get a vote in this.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree. But it DEFINITELY falls.
We had a routine neurology appointment today. Gracie's last known seizure was in July, and her face is looking pretty strong these days (excepting the bad flare-up she had in October), so I was expecting smooth sailing. Thankfully, that's exactly what we got.
Her doctor took her in the hall while I reviewed things with the nurse and had her run and skip, then brought her back in the room and asked her a bunch of questions. She told me she was thrilled with her progress, that she seems much more focused and calm, and I definitely agree. We talked about her face a bit, too- at this point, the working diagnosis is something auto-immune. Her MRI is too normal for any kind of demyelinating disease, and her symptoms are too inconsistent to be due to a tumor (which was also ruled out by the MRI, but of course there's the worry we missed something, especially when your mom works in neurosurgery, and especially when it literally does not get any worse than the type of tumor that would cause a facial weakness and I can't even get into it lalalallaa let's talk about something else now). There's one specific diagnosis we suspect, very rare, but there are no diagnostic tests to definitively tell us if that's it, and given the nature of her symptoms, the neurologist also reminded me that it may always just be a nebulous, "we don't know what this is but we know what it's not and it is good that it's not that"-type diagnosis. I already knew that, and even though I don't always like it, it is much, much better than some of the alternatives, so I'll take it (as if I have a choice. but you know what I mean.) As far as meds are concerned, if she gains more than five pounds before July, we'll have to increase her dose, regardless of whether or not she's having seizures. If we can make it until July without gaining that much weight, and without any seizures, then we can let her outgrow her current dose and see how she does. We can talk about weaning meds in 2014, which is the next time the neurologist wants to see her, as long as she keeps doing as well as she's been doing. All good news!
But my favorite part of the appointment came when her neurologist was talking to her, and turned to me and said, in her calm, measured voice, "I think Gracie is going to be a neurologist when she grows up. She's very thoughtful. And...well. It's nice to be a neurosurgeon (she knows I work in neurosurgery), but. Well. Gracie has the, ah, motor planning skills of a neurologist." At which point I could not help laughing, because ZOMG. The child could trip over a strand of hair. I did tell her, I sometimes have trouble figuring out whether it's just Gracie being like her poor, unfortunate mother, or if it's something I should worry about, and she said, "You know, when I was in high school, I had to take some stupid test, and afterwards, they told me I had the motor planning skills of a mental vegetable. Which I STILL THINK was an exaggeration! But regardless, I don't think it matters." Heh. Excellent point.
Her doctor took her in the hall while I reviewed things with the nurse and had her run and skip, then brought her back in the room and asked her a bunch of questions. She told me she was thrilled with her progress, that she seems much more focused and calm, and I definitely agree. We talked about her face a bit, too- at this point, the working diagnosis is something auto-immune. Her MRI is too normal for any kind of demyelinating disease, and her symptoms are too inconsistent to be due to a tumor (which was also ruled out by the MRI, but of course there's the worry we missed something, especially when your mom works in neurosurgery, and especially when it literally does not get any worse than the type of tumor that would cause a facial weakness and I can't even get into it lalalallaa let's talk about something else now). There's one specific diagnosis we suspect, very rare, but there are no diagnostic tests to definitively tell us if that's it, and given the nature of her symptoms, the neurologist also reminded me that it may always just be a nebulous, "we don't know what this is but we know what it's not and it is good that it's not that"-type diagnosis. I already knew that, and even though I don't always like it, it is much, much better than some of the alternatives, so I'll take it (as if I have a choice. but you know what I mean.) As far as meds are concerned, if she gains more than five pounds before July, we'll have to increase her dose, regardless of whether or not she's having seizures. If we can make it until July without gaining that much weight, and without any seizures, then we can let her outgrow her current dose and see how she does. We can talk about weaning meds in 2014, which is the next time the neurologist wants to see her, as long as she keeps doing as well as she's been doing. All good news!
But my favorite part of the appointment came when her neurologist was talking to her, and turned to me and said, in her calm, measured voice, "I think Gracie is going to be a neurologist when she grows up. She's very thoughtful. And...well. It's nice to be a neurosurgeon (she knows I work in neurosurgery), but. Well. Gracie has the, ah, motor planning skills of a neurologist." At which point I could not help laughing, because ZOMG. The child could trip over a strand of hair. I did tell her, I sometimes have trouble figuring out whether it's just Gracie being like her poor, unfortunate mother, or if it's something I should worry about, and she said, "You know, when I was in high school, I had to take some stupid test, and afterwards, they told me I had the motor planning skills of a mental vegetable. Which I STILL THINK was an exaggeration! But regardless, I don't think it matters." Heh. Excellent point.
 |
| And anyway, she can crank the ball off the tee, all the way to the back of the yard. I think she's all good. |
Thursday, January 17, 2013
36 weeks
Holy crap, not ready, etc etc etc, yawn.
Look at this big boy:
Compared to his oldest sister:
and his petite middle sis:
I actually think they're finally pretty much all comparable. Maybe because of the HORRIBLE AWFUL PLAGUE that hit our house this week? Oh my GOD, you guys. So horrible. The girls are back to 100%, while I am in that post-sickness daze, worsened by serious dehydration (you know how you're always insanely thirsty when you're pregnant? And then on top of that, you add post-puking dehydration and oh my god I'm a walking raisin), but at least the room has stopped spinning and I sat and played with the girls during tubbies instead of lying on the cool, sweet tile floor of the bathroom and praying for deliverance.
We spent the whole first half of the week sitting on the couch and watching tv, which was a necessary evil, because seriously, would YOU try to take this poor child in the basement to make puzzles?
And to add insult to injury, it was her week to be the star student at school, and she missed half of it:( It would have been great if she didn't notice, but we spent the whole night before, filling out her Star Student questionnaire. When she was lying pathetically on the couch, she said, "I want to go to be the star student today but I keep frowing up." Poor baby:( I was actually sort of hoping she'd be too sick to go back to school today so she could get a full week some other time, but she was really, really feeling quite healthy today, whereas I was not, so OFF TO SCHOOL WITH HER. And she had a ton of fun and didn't really seem to notice that she missed out on a day of being the star student, so it's all good. After school, we made up for lost time by playing outside and making arts and crafts and playing in the basement and having as much fun as humanly possible.
I'm really trying to enjoy all of these days even more than usual, because in four short weeks, it won't be as easy as all this. I keep thinking of the days after Katie was born, when I wanted to get on the floor and play with Gracie, or snuggle with her in my lap, and how hard it was because Katie had her own ideas about how things were going to be, and it was so hard. And I also try to remember that it was a lot harder for me than it was for Gracie, and how we found a new way to do things, one that involved Katie, and how much they love playing together and how much BETTER everything is with two of them, and I know all of that is true- they will love their baby brother and he will bring so much fun into their lives, but right now I think I'm in a melancholy phase. Because, well. It's me we're talking about.
Look at this big boy:
Compared to his oldest sister:
and his petite middle sis:
I actually think they're finally pretty much all comparable. Maybe because of the HORRIBLE AWFUL PLAGUE that hit our house this week? Oh my GOD, you guys. So horrible. The girls are back to 100%, while I am in that post-sickness daze, worsened by serious dehydration (you know how you're always insanely thirsty when you're pregnant? And then on top of that, you add post-puking dehydration and oh my god I'm a walking raisin), but at least the room has stopped spinning and I sat and played with the girls during tubbies instead of lying on the cool, sweet tile floor of the bathroom and praying for deliverance.
We spent the whole first half of the week sitting on the couch and watching tv, which was a necessary evil, because seriously, would YOU try to take this poor child in the basement to make puzzles?
And to add insult to injury, it was her week to be the star student at school, and she missed half of it:( It would have been great if she didn't notice, but we spent the whole night before, filling out her Star Student questionnaire. When she was lying pathetically on the couch, she said, "I want to go to be the star student today but I keep frowing up." Poor baby:( I was actually sort of hoping she'd be too sick to go back to school today so she could get a full week some other time, but she was really, really feeling quite healthy today, whereas I was not, so OFF TO SCHOOL WITH HER. And she had a ton of fun and didn't really seem to notice that she missed out on a day of being the star student, so it's all good. After school, we made up for lost time by playing outside and making arts and crafts and playing in the basement and having as much fun as humanly possible.
I'm really trying to enjoy all of these days even more than usual, because in four short weeks, it won't be as easy as all this. I keep thinking of the days after Katie was born, when I wanted to get on the floor and play with Gracie, or snuggle with her in my lap, and how hard it was because Katie had her own ideas about how things were going to be, and it was so hard. And I also try to remember that it was a lot harder for me than it was for Gracie, and how we found a new way to do things, one that involved Katie, and how much they love playing together and how much BETTER everything is with two of them, and I know all of that is true- they will love their baby brother and he will bring so much fun into their lives, but right now I think I'm in a melancholy phase. Because, well. It's me we're talking about.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
No Resolution New Year
I am normally a huge fan of new years resolutions. I know there are a lot of people who like to sniff and get fussy in their seats and say that THEY do not need it to be new years to improve upon themselves, THEY like to identify things they should improve as they arise and just fix them as they discover them. These people tend to be rather sanctimonious and not at all fun so I try not to worry about them. I like the idea of a new year and a clean slate and twelve months ahead of me to work on a goal, which is usually something like training for a distance run or cooking more or something that I want to fix, but is also kinda fun, because I do see how silly it is to say I'm going to fix something and then a week later, just be sitting on the couch eating Cheetos.
This year, one of my friends asked on Facebook what people's resolutions were. And it occurred to me that I genuinely had not given it a moment's thought. And it also occurred to me that I genuinely think, eff that. I did the best I could for this last year. I am not interested in fixing anything or being a better person or really any form of self-improvement. In fact? I think the universe should resolve to not be an asshole to my oldest child this year, or, in fact, any of my children.
This is dramatic. There are kids who are really, really much sicker, suffering much more, and families facing much more difficult situations. But you know, if those people were ever to find this, I would tell them: you should resolve the same thing. You should just enjoy yourself. Eat too much ice cream, sit on the couch too much, buy yourself too many new books, stop clipping coupons, whatever the hell you want.
Maybe next year I'll work on being a better person. This year, my only resolution is to have a good time, enjoy my family, and spend less time bringing G to see various doctors.
Sigh. I guess that is a resolution. Whatever. You get my point.
This year, one of my friends asked on Facebook what people's resolutions were. And it occurred to me that I genuinely had not given it a moment's thought. And it also occurred to me that I genuinely think, eff that. I did the best I could for this last year. I am not interested in fixing anything or being a better person or really any form of self-improvement. In fact? I think the universe should resolve to not be an asshole to my oldest child this year, or, in fact, any of my children.
This is dramatic. There are kids who are really, really much sicker, suffering much more, and families facing much more difficult situations. But you know, if those people were ever to find this, I would tell them: you should resolve the same thing. You should just enjoy yourself. Eat too much ice cream, sit on the couch too much, buy yourself too many new books, stop clipping coupons, whatever the hell you want.
Maybe next year I'll work on being a better person. This year, my only resolution is to have a good time, enjoy my family, and spend less time bringing G to see various doctors.
Sigh. I guess that is a resolution. Whatever. You get my point.
 |
| Oh yes. I also resolve to eat more cake straight off the cake round. |
Monday, December 31, 2012
With a bang AND a whimper
Katie is miserably sick with a cold, alternating between fitfully dozing and screaming her lungs out, and it is looking to be a very, very long last night of 2012. Which, for the record, is the herpetic sore on the story of my life.
Because I am facebook friends with various relatives and older, dignified people, I could not give 2012 the full sign off there that I wanted to, so without further ado, let me just say here:
2012?
GOOOOOOOOOOO
FUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKK
YOURSELLLLLLLLFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF.
in the ear.
with a rusty tent pole.
I will not miss you. I will not pine for you. You are the worst, stupidest year ever.
The End.
Because I am facebook friends with various relatives and older, dignified people, I could not give 2012 the full sign off there that I wanted to, so without further ado, let me just say here:
2012?
GOOOOOOOOOOO
FUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKK
YOURSELLLLLLLLFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF.
in the ear.
with a rusty tent pole.
I will not miss you. I will not pine for you. You are the worst, stupidest year ever.
The End.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Suck it, Dummy.
I went back to the doctor today (who shall henceforth be known as Dr. Stupidhead.) I *thought* my appointment was with my regular doctor, but when I got there, nope, Dr. Stupidhead. Sigh. FINE.
I took my seat in the waiting room, and I waited. And waited. And waited some more. And after an hour and fifteen minutes, went to a room, where the medical assistant told me there were two people in front of me and one of them was a new OB visit. AWESOME.
So I waited and waited and waited some more. And contemplated leaving. But I stayed, because I actually had questions for change (more on that in a minute.) And two hours after my scheduled appointment time, my REAL doctor walked in the room. Turns out she had a break between deliveries and heard they were massively backlogged and came over to help. This was extra-awesome because I know that a doctor who is two hours behind is not going to actually LISTEN to what I have to say, she's going to spend the appointment stressing about how far behind she is. So: yes, awesome.
But before I could even get to my questions? She pronounced my weight gain, and I quote, "Perfect." It took all my self-control not to be like, "I KNOW, RIGHT????"
Suck it, Dr. Stupidhead.
Anyway, my questions today: just this morning I had my second classic migraine (aka migraine with aura) of this pregnancy. I used to get them when I first started getting my period, and then I got them allll the time, with super-bad visual auras, but prior to Stosh, it had been close to twenty years since I had one. I had a visual aura a month or so ago, right before bed, but I went to sleep and woke up feeling fine so I didn't think too much about it. This morning, I had a mild headache and felt really thirsty, but nothing out of the ordinary until suddenly I couldn't see. And the harder I tried to see anything, the less I could see it. Like right after you look at a bright light, except I hadn't. So I chugged a bunch of water, took two extra-strength Tylenol, and when in the office and closed my eyes, at which point I could clearly see a whole laser light show- red, blue, yellow flickering snake-light string of lights. After about half an hour, it seemed to mostly go away. I felt off for the rest of the day- really exhuasted, like after you puke a lot? (Sorry, gross, I know.) Like that. Not as bad as the migraines I used to get, but pretty bad. My doctor said my blood pressure was perfect and there's no protein in my urine, so no worries. Perfect.
My other question was about the super intense braxton-hicks contractions I had last week, which I thought were probably illness/dehydration-related, but a few of them were really breath-taking, so I was a little nervous. She wanted to do a quick cervical check, which was completely perfect and therefore totally reassuring.
So. Even though it was light when I got there and dark when I left, it was a good appointment. And Dr. Stupidhead is a big dumb smelly stupidhead.
I took my seat in the waiting room, and I waited. And waited. And waited some more. And after an hour and fifteen minutes, went to a room, where the medical assistant told me there were two people in front of me and one of them was a new OB visit. AWESOME.
So I waited and waited and waited some more. And contemplated leaving. But I stayed, because I actually had questions for change (more on that in a minute.) And two hours after my scheduled appointment time, my REAL doctor walked in the room. Turns out she had a break between deliveries and heard they were massively backlogged and came over to help. This was extra-awesome because I know that a doctor who is two hours behind is not going to actually LISTEN to what I have to say, she's going to spend the appointment stressing about how far behind she is. So: yes, awesome.
But before I could even get to my questions? She pronounced my weight gain, and I quote, "Perfect." It took all my self-control not to be like, "I KNOW, RIGHT????"
Suck it, Dr. Stupidhead.
Anyway, my questions today: just this morning I had my second classic migraine (aka migraine with aura) of this pregnancy. I used to get them when I first started getting my period, and then I got them allll the time, with super-bad visual auras, but prior to Stosh, it had been close to twenty years since I had one. I had a visual aura a month or so ago, right before bed, but I went to sleep and woke up feeling fine so I didn't think too much about it. This morning, I had a mild headache and felt really thirsty, but nothing out of the ordinary until suddenly I couldn't see. And the harder I tried to see anything, the less I could see it. Like right after you look at a bright light, except I hadn't. So I chugged a bunch of water, took two extra-strength Tylenol, and when in the office and closed my eyes, at which point I could clearly see a whole laser light show- red, blue, yellow flickering snake-light string of lights. After about half an hour, it seemed to mostly go away. I felt off for the rest of the day- really exhuasted, like after you puke a lot? (Sorry, gross, I know.) Like that. Not as bad as the migraines I used to get, but pretty bad. My doctor said my blood pressure was perfect and there's no protein in my urine, so no worries. Perfect.
My other question was about the super intense braxton-hicks contractions I had last week, which I thought were probably illness/dehydration-related, but a few of them were really breath-taking, so I was a little nervous. She wanted to do a quick cervical check, which was completely perfect and therefore totally reassuring.
So. Even though it was light when I got there and dark when I left, it was a good appointment. And Dr. Stupidhead is a big dumb smelly stupidhead.
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